variations
by flandus
Summary: Even after months of surviving together, the others still don't know what Daryl did before the dead took over. He wants to keep it that way too, it hurts too much to think about and nobody needs to know. They wouldn't believe him anyway. When Murphy MacManus shows up, the truth that Daryl has been holding onto slowly slips away, showing Daryl in a new, almost holy light.
1. aéquitas

Rick leans against the fence, listening to the moans of the walkers from outside the fence. It's a nice morning, something nobody gets to really experience now, because there's always that fear deep down inside that something bad is going to happen today. It sort of ruins the pleasant look of the sun rising over the trees if he's being honest with himself. He lets himself enjoy it for a moment, before thinking about today's plan. He and Daryl spoke about taking a run into town and checking out a joint Hershel told them about, a pharmacy far out that people might not have thought about raiding.

"We gon' do it?" Rick turns as Daryl leans his weight onto the fence beside him. He's got a knack of doing that, just appearing when Rick thinks about a run. He nods, curling his fingers into the fence.

"It's worth a shot, we need medicine. We can't take any risks, we can't guarantee we won't need them. Best we get them now, and Hershel said there should be other shops there too and it's not near a town, so it should be pretty safe" Daryl nods, he doesn't always have faith in Rick's plans, but most of the time, when Hershel has input anyway, he trusts them fully. Rick watches as Daryl drags a hand down his tired face, catching sight of that familiar tattoo on his trigger finger. He's always wondered what it means, but he's never thought to ask.

"Aéquitas, what does it mean?" Daryl looks up sharply, like someone's just slapped him hard in the face before pulling his eyes to his hand. His face falters before he speaks.

"It's part of a latin phrase that means truth is justice. Veritas Aéquitas" He says the phrase quietly and winces before running his finger over the words. Rick wants to ask Daryl why he's got it, and what it means to him, but he knows Daryl well enough to know that too much prying into his personal life can send him into a spin so he doesn't.

"It's nice" he says instead. Daryl gives him a slight nod before turning back to look at the sun.

"I'll go and see Carl and Judith before we leave, better going early. In and out, as always" Rick walks away from the fence, but quickly glances back when he's at the door, and sees the sudden slump of Daryl's shoulders and he feels guilty. He knows he wasn't to know that the tattoo would strike a nerve, it was a normal question, but all the same.

He makes his way through the cold corridors until he's at the cellblock and tries not to wake everyone else up. Beth is already up, feeding Judith her morning bottle. He scoops her into his arms and smiles at Beth, who goes back to her cell. Sometimes, when he really looks into Judith's eyes he can see Lori and it makes his chest ache. Because by no means was their marriage perfect, but he'd loved her. He rocks her in his arms and she gurgles with glee. It's sad, he thinks, that she's got no idea what is really going on around her and that one day when everything's back to normal (because Rick still hopes) she's going to be able to tell people that she survived a zombie apocalypse when she was only months old.

"You're up early dad" Carl rubs at his eyes before kissing Judith on the cheek.

"Daryl and I are going on a run, just for some medicine. We shouldn't be long so we're going early"

"Just you and Daryl? Is that safe?" Carl questions looking up at his dad with curious eyes.

"It's not a big trip, we'll be fine." He passes Judith over to him carefully.

"I'm going to talk to Hershel before we go, Glenn's here so listen to him if anything should happen, ok?" Carl nods silently, watching his dad stroll away.

Rick locates Hershel in his sell, reading from his Bible.

"Daryl and I are going out, anything specific we need to look for?" Hershel sets his Bible down and looks up at Rick.

"Whatever you can get, we may need anything and everything at one time or another" Rick nods, holding a hand up in goodbye. When he gets outside, Daryl is already leaning against the car with his crossbow strapped across his back.

"Here, don't wanna forget this" Daryl throws Rick his shotgun before getting into the car. Carl and Carol open the gates for them. Being a sheriff, Rick used to think that getting out of prison was probably the best day of your life, but now, leaving the safety of the walls scares him half to death.

/

Hershel was right; it looks like nobody had bothered to look into the pharmacy to see what was there to take. They load their bags with the medicine from the shelves, not bothering to see what it was called or anything like that. They fill them until they can't put anymore inside haul them over their shoulders. Like Hershel said, there's a few other shops along side it and they agree to check them out. The first one is clothes, and they scrounge a few things hoping that someone back at the prison can get some use out of them.

Next door is a small grocery store and it looks relatively untouched, Rick looks at Daryl.

"Think we should go in?" He tries to look through the window, but it's thick with dust so he can't see anything.

"Yeah, I'll take the back you take the front" Rick watches as Daryl pulls the crossbow up to his chest and slips around the back of the building. He raps his knuckles on the window a few times when Daryl is out of sight; the sound attracts walkers, letting them know if any are in there. He waits a while, waits for a sound that doesn't come. He has his gun ready, just in case, and slowly turns the handle of the door. The sudden movement causes a cloud of dust to form; Rick bats it away with his hand while coughing. He steps into the shop, listening out for walkers. When he's sure there's none in the shop, he relaxes just a little and steps in further.

The shelves look barely touched, like everyone forgot that this little retail corner existed. His fingers trail over the dusty labels, there's food he hasn't eaten in a while and it makes his stomach growl.

"Take one more move, and I'll shoot you" He freezes at the voice, that's certainly not Daryl. It's a woman's voice, with an Irish accent laced through it. Rick doesn't move, he can't be sure that she's actually got a gun or not, questioning her isn't a risk he wants to take.

"Put the gun down, put your hands in the air and slowly turn around" Her voice is steady and demanding, and Rick can tell she has no qualms about what she said before just by the sound of her voice. He hesitates, knowing he should just turn quickly and shoot her before she has a chance to shoot him, but for some reason he complies. He does as she asked, putting his gun on the floor slowly, knowing his knife is still in his boot and turns towards her. At first glance, the woman looks harmless. Fair blonde hair and a pretty face, but once he's blinked once or twice, he notices her stance, the tattoos on her hands and the burning look in her eyes. It tells him he made the right decision to comply.

"Are you alone?" She asks, stepping closer to Rick.

"No" is all Rick says, not wanting to give the location of Daryl away, but knowing it would be safer for Daryl for his presence to be acknowledged.

"What do you want?" She asks, her eyes flickering between the two doors of the shop, watching for anyone else.

"Just some food, supplies are running low"

"Why should I let you take some?" There's something in her eyes that Rick can't read, it's like she wants to shoot him, but she can't decide on why.

"Because I have children" Something flashes in her eyes again and her hand falters on the gun slightly.

A noise comes from the other end of the shop, and the woman quickly pulls out another gun, pointing it towards the area the noise came from. From the corner of his eye, Rick can see Daryl slowly walking towards him with his crossbow poised and ready. He manoeuvres himself around the shelves, keeping his eyes on Rick the whole time. He must not be able to see the woman from his position. When he rounds the corner his crossbow is pointed directly at the woman.

But he doesn't shoot. Instead, Daryl's mouth goes slack and he drops the crossbow from its position. The woman also falters, dropping her guns to her side. They look at each other for a long moment, eyes searching each other, taking them in before they break. They run towards each other and their weapons clatter on the floor as they crash into each other. Rick looks at them, perplexed, Daryl had never had such intimate contact with anyone since he'd known him, and it was odd to see him holding the woman in his arms like it was natural. They stand there for a while, holding each other, and Rick swears he's never seen Daryl's eyes so bright.


	2. memories

"I thought you were dead, I had dreams, about you dying, about Connor" Murphy says, eyes almost tearing up. Daryl feels his chest tighten, he hadn't thought about Connor for a while, he couldn't bring himself too.

"Is he alive?" She asks, searching his grief ridden face, her arms slowly dropping away from him as she steps away from him. Daryl doesn't want her to let go, but she has, and he fully takes her in. She's lost so much weight; the tight black shirt clings to her body and shows her prominent ribs. It's ripped in a few places, showing ugly old wounds that she must have stopped the bleeding the same way they used to, with an iron. The rosary beads that used to adorn her neck are no longer there and there's a large scar spreading across her neck.

"I don't know" Daryl finally says in a quiet, slow voice. Confusion flashes across Murphy's face, and he quickly glances at Rick, who looks just as confused.

"We had a fight, about a week before this happened. I went to visit Merle, when I went back, our whole place was ransacked, no sign of Connor" The look of pure terror that crosses Murphy's face makes Daryl want to cry, he hasn't cried, not since he was a child.

"But what did you two fight about that made you leave? You two, you could never stay mad at each other for long" Murphy chokes out, unable to comprehend what she's hearing. Daryl doesn't want to answer, because the fight wasn't like any of their other silly scraps where they'd hit each other a few times before going for a pint at McGinty's like nothing had ever happened, this had been different. Yes there had been hitting, a lot of it, but there'd been no pint at McGinty's afterwards, no acting like nothing had ever happened.

"Take a guess, Murph" Realisation floods Murphy's face and she stumbles backwards; her hands balling into fists.

"I shouldn't have left, I should have stayed I should have been there when you told him" Unable to see her in distress for a second longer, Daryl grabs her arms and pulls her into him. He holds her close against her, and he's aware of Rick's eyes on him. He knows it must be foreign for Rick to see, since he's known him, emotional physical contact has been somewhat alien to him. Showing as a cold, unemotional man, what Rick is seeing now is a man of compassion, someone who _cares. _He pushes those thoughts away though, because Murphy is clinging to him the same way she did when Connor was in the hospital and he clings back.

"Lay across the backseat and get some rest, it's a while until we get to the prison" Rick says, opening the door for Murphy. Daryl watches as she gives him an appreciative smile and then slips in. He nods at Rick, wanting to say thank you, but not knowing how. They get in the car silently and pull away, checking the mirror, Murphy is asleep already, and Daryl can't help but let his mind cast back to when everything was normal.

He'd been scared, when the Irish boy and the Irish girl had come bounding up to him and asked if he could sit with him. Nobody had ever wanted to sit with him, so why now? When he didn't answer, they sat down anyway. And somewhere along the way of being constantly scared of socialising, he became comfortable with the two sitting with him every day. As they grew older, and the two Irish twins he'd come to know, Connor and Murphy didn't leave his side, he decided that yeah, having friends were ok. But it became more than a friendship in the end, though. When their Ma noticed the purple shaded etched across his skin and the constant droop of his shoulders, it was an unspoken promise that she'd look after him too.

Not that Daryl didn't have a family because he did; he had his big brother Merle who always looked out for him. But sometimes he thought that this family, the three of them, was better than his own. There was something about Connor and Murphy that was just right, that made Daryl feel comfortable, which people very rarely made him feel. He grew up with them, learning their ways and even following their religion too. He'd go to church with them, pray with them; many people thought that they were triplets if they didn't already know them. In everyone's eyes, Daryl was a MacManus.

By the time they were old enough, the three lived together. It wasn't the best place, but it was enough for them and that was it. That was a place Daryl felt the happiest in, with his two friends, his brother and sister. Looking at Murphy now brings an unfathomable pain to his chest.

Daryl traces the tattoo on his finger and swallows; this world is really fucked up. Finding Murphy alive has unsettled him, if she's alive, is Connor? If he'd have sucked up his pride and gone back to Connor after an hour or two, to apologise to him like they always did, maybe they'd all have been together where they belong. It's not that he doubts Connor's ability to survive, because he doesn't, he was on his own though, something Connor wasn't very comfortable with. It's the thought he falls asleep with, the one of Connor sitting alone bleeding to death with his rosary in his hand praying to God.

It's dark when the car pulls up to the gates and again, it's Carl and Carol who open them. They both peer into the car as it drives past; curious as to why three people have come back when only two went out. Rick parks the truck in its usual position and jumps straight out and runs to Carl, hugging him tightly. Daryl can see him talking to Carol in a hushed voice and he takes this as his queue to get Murphy inside before they're horded with questions. He leads her through the corridors, his crossbow in his hand in case of any loose walkers.

"How did you manage to secure this place?" Murphy breathes, gazing at the walls around her. Daryl thumbs forwards.

"We've got a strong group, we were desperate, managed to kill most of the walkers and now it's just a case of keeping them out" Daryl says, as he turns the corner he hears the voices of the others. He's apprehensive for them to meet Murphy, not because he doesn't think they'll like her, because everyone likes Murphy, but because he's sort of come to think of them as his family. Before, Murphy and Connor were his family.

"Hey everyone" he announces as they reach the cell block, the others look up and glance at Murphy, curious.

"This is Murphy, a friend of mine from before the world went to shit. She's got a wound on her arm; think you could take a look at it Hershel?" Hershel nods, beckoning for Murphy to sit next to him. She does so gingerly, and Hershel inspects the wound as Daryl prepares some food for her. It's half of his share, the others weren't to know she was coming back, so Carol only put the same amount of food as normal and it's too late to start something else.

"Did you cauterize this?" Hershel asks and Daryl looks up and reads Murphy's face. She nods looking down at the wound, seeing the dried blood and the stark pink blisters that contrast against her pale skin. It takes Daryl back to when they first cauterized a wound, when he and Murphy held Connor down while Rocco pressed the iron to the slash. Rocco, just another face in Daryl's book of memories.

"It looks pretty good, the cauterization stopped the bleeding and the chance of infection, but you've got some nasty blisters dear. I'll bandage it up for you, and we'll bathe it in the morning" While Hershel's attended to Murphy's arm, she looks around and eats what Daryl passed to her.

"Where's Merle?" She suddenly asks, and everyone looks at Daryl with a sad look.

"Don't know. Could be dead, could be alive. All I know is he's only got one hand" Murphy swallows hard and Daryl can tell she's itching to ask all sort of questions.

"But I thought you said you were visiting him?"

"Was, but he was apparently bein' an asshole. So Rick handcuffed him to a roof, when we got back, he'd gone, all of him sept' his one hand" Daryl keeps his eyes on his food, Murphy doesn't answer because Rick, Carol and Carl come in.

"I'm sure Daryl's already told you, but Murphy's going to be staying with us now. This is Carl and Carol" he points to the two standing beside him and Carol offers her a warm smile.

"Glenn, Maggie, Beth, Hershel, T-Dog and" Rick stops, chocking on his words before looking straight towards the sleeping infant in Beth's arms.

"Judith"

"What happened to your neck?" Daryl asks as he stands in the doorway to the cell Murphy will be sleeping in. Her fingers automatically reach up to the scars and trace them. He stares at the tattoo that graces them, matching his own. Her Ma hadn't been best pleased when they all came back with the matching tattoo's, for Connor it was ok, but Murphy? It didn't settle too well.

"Happened a month a' two ago, big bulldozer of a man tried t' av' me gun" She says, tracing the lines.

"Took me rosary, aven't felt the same since" Daryl steps from the cell, crossing to his own next door and heads straight for his pillow. Underneath, are two rosary's, his own and Connor's too. He grabs Connor's; knowing the difference because of the knot it after it broke. He rubs his hand over it before going back to Murphy's cell. He hands it to her, and she looks up at him with disbelief, recognizing it straight away.

"When Merle and I went back and found the place ransacked, Connor wasn't there. But this was, hanging on the hook by the door. I couldn't leave it" He watches Murphy turn it over in her hands, her fingers running over the cross and the beads and the chips it's acquired over the years.

"He'll be ok, y'know. It's Connor, he always is" Daryl says, before backing out of his cell. Hoping that he's right, praying that Connor's out there somewhere thinking the same thing.


	3. on the outside

Murphy knows it's early when she wakes up, because there are no sounds coming from any of the cells around her, only the faint sound of snoring from down the hall reaches her. There's a slight pain in her palm, and she unclenches her hand to find the rosary; Connor's rosary that Daryl handed to her last night. She'd slept with it clenched tight in her fist, causing indentations across the soft skin. The dream lingers in her eyes, the redness of Daryl's skin; the despair in Connor's eyes as they stand face to face with uncertainty stretched out before them.

At first, nothing about the dream made any sense. She had been sitting in some sort of makeshift stadium, lots of other people sitting around her and cheering. A man had been stood in the middle, like a ringmaster at a circus, though she couldn't hear what he was saying over the loud thrum of voiced around her. Two men were brought out, their heads covered with muslin bags and the crowd cheered even louder. It was only when the bags were pulled of their heads that Murphy recognized who they were; Daryl and Connor And it was only then that she heard what the man was saying. _Fight to the death,_he had said smiling, making the crowd cheer like they were watching this on television. When Connor threw the first punch, she jolted awake.

It sickens her, that her mind would show her anything of the sort. She wonders that if Connor was alive, had he had the same dream. When they first had the same dream, at the age of twelve, Connor thought it was the best thing in the world. They'd woken up at the same time, down to the second, and told each other the same dream. It was apparently something that happened to twins every now and again, a rarity according to the doctor.

Murphy clears the awful dream from her head, praying to God like she did every morning that Connor was alive and well. She didn't have to pray for Daryl anymore, because he was alive. The feeling she'd got when his arms wrapped around her was indescribable, she'd longed to find him like she had her brother. She's just always thought she'd find them together. She glances down at the tattoos scribed on her hands, the word _veritas_ being her only connection to her brother at the moment. Ma had been livid, apparently tattoos weren't for girls, but the three of them did everything together she couldn't not have one. She loved it anyway, the two words scribed over her trigger finger on each hand. Daryl had gotten a_équitas,_ Connor had gotten _veritas_ and she herself had gotten both, tying her to both her brothers.

Quiet footsteps pull Murphy from her trance; she glances towards the opening to her cell to see Daryl leaning against the wall with his arms folded against his chest. She thinks back to the time she saw him in _that_ way. They were celebrating their seventeenth birthday at McGinty's, and Doc had hired a new barmaid. Of course, with his good looks and charm, Daryl was able to chat her up and make it look effortless. That night Murphy tried not to think about Daryl's soft lips on her neck as she downed another beer.

"Nice sleep?" Daryl asks, his voice groggy from sleep. Murphy wants to tell him about the dream, but she's used to them, so she decides against it.

"Best in ages, sure it's ok for m t'stay?"

"Don't start that Murph, you know I ain't going to let you leave me, only jus' got you back" Murphy feels the warmth of his words seep into her cold bones, because it's what always happened to her when he said something like it. The Daryl affect, is what her Ma used to call it.

They go down to breakfast together and the others, more alert than last night, make an effort to talk to her. Beth sidles up to her and sits next to her while they're eating, bumping Judith on her knee. The two talk for only a few minutes, but it's in those few minutes that they both feel a sense of normality, they chat about hair and what school was like. Beth hadn't had a chance to finish school, and Murphy tells her she probably isn't losing out if her school was anything like hers.

The normality is shattered a few minutes later, when Rick stands up to talk about the days plans. The daily watch is issued in shifts, and Rick tells Murphy he will join her for today to get the feel of the prison before being properly put into the rota tomorrow. When Murphy looks at Daryl, there's a hesitant look on his face. He's going on a hunt, and she can tell he's worried that he'll get back and she won't be here. So when he goes outside to his bike, she wraps her arms around his waist.

"I'll be ere' when you get back, don' worry bout' tha'" Murphy whispers so Rick can't hear but Daryl can, and he squeezes her a little tighter.

+  
"M' sorry for tryin' t' kill you" Murphy says to Rick in a quiet voice when they're up in the watch tower. Rick turns to her with a gentle smile on his face and he nudges her slightly with his elbow.

"That's ok; I'd have probably done that same if I was in your position"

"Was gon' shoot you if Daryl hadn't appeared"

"You were?"

"Aye. You coulda' been kickin' the shit outta me and I wouldnt'a shot until he said so" Murphy explains, because it's the truth mostly. Unless Daryl was the one being kicked in, she wouldn't shoot someone he loved. It's the reason why Merle never felt her wrath all those times back in Boston.

"He means a lot to you then"

"Course, grew up with im'. No one else like Daryl, sent me mad thinkin' he and Con were dead" Murphy goes quiet, thinking about Connor and her dream.

"Daryl's sure done a lot for us. Don't know how any of us would have stayed sane without him. But I'll admit, he's a hard nut to crack" Murphy looks at Rick, because yes, Daryl is. But only to strangers, those who don't know about his father and the lesions that stretch across his back as a constant reminder.

"Aye, but ya aven't had twenty years with im' like I av'. More to im' than meets the eye, as me Ma use t' say. On tha' outside, he's tough. Seems like nothin' can get im' bu' i'll tell ya', tha' man's seen more than ya'd think" Murphy remembers the first time she saw the scars that coated his skin like skid marks, she and Connor had gasped but they never spoke about it. It wasn't until their Ma noticed the large purple bruise on his arm that they realised what was going on.

"Daryl never mentioned you or Connor, at least I don't remember him doing so" Rick says quietly.

"Couldn'ta' bear bein' apart. He wouldn'ta anyway, not if he'd had a fight wi' Connor. Two of em' can't back down, s'there trouble"

"Yesterday, you seemed to know what they fought about right away. How's that?"

"Was about me" Murphy sighs, casting her mind back to when she and Daryl had their own argument, it was long coming and unavoidable.

"Daryl and I, we slept together when we was young, knew it was gon' appen' someday, just din't know when. Trouble bein', we kept it from Connor. We dain't wanna' hurt im', he'd av' found it weird, his sis and best mate sleepin' together so we dain't tell im'. It carried on for a few years, ended up fallin' for im'. Daryl wanted to tell Connor, I dain't. So I left, brought Ma to Atlanta for a trip, never made it back. Apparently, Daryl told Connor while I was away, s'what they fought about. Wouldn'ta been any different if I'da been there, but would'a made me feel better"

"I'm sorry you weren't with your brother when all this happened, you shoulda' been" Rick says, patting Murphy's arm gently.

Murphy stares at the walker, as Daryl and Rick called them, and watches as it shakes the fence trying to get in. She wonders what she'd have done if she'd have found Connor or Daryl as one of them, whether she'd have what it takes to kill them.


End file.
